


Better latte than never

by sweaters_in_the_summer



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gift Giving, M/M, cheesy signage, patrick can be creative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29591058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaters_in_the_summer/pseuds/sweaters_in_the_summer
Summary: David really wants that espresso machine and Patrick will do some truly terrible things to make it happen.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 14
Kudos: 94





	Better latte than never

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write something today. Not sure where this came from. 
> 
> Set around MCJR and after. Thank goodness for vague timelines, amirite?

David was in the stockroom at Rose Apothecary poking through boxes, looking for the natural deodorant that frankly didn’t sell that well. But it was still winter, so even with Schitt’s Creek’s downright un-Canadian winters, it didn’t need to work all _that_ hard. 

He smiles into the box of - there they are! - deodorants when he hears the door to their store open. He didn’t need to hear his boyfriend’s voice to know that’s who had walked in. He knew the sound of those mountaineering boots that he secretly loved. 

“Close your eyes!”

Patrick had told David that he’d be in a bit late, that he needed to pick up something in Elmdale that morning. While David lived in eternal hope that it would be a gift for him, he didn’t really think it would be. But some things he couldn’t help but be an optimist about. 

However, Christmas was recent enough that he was still finding pine needles wedged in the carpet of his family’s motel rooms from his dad’s party so he assumed it was, like, something baseball related, or maybe a guitar accessory, or something else he really could not care less about. _Bor-ing_.

His stomach churned in nervous excitement after he heard those three little words from Patrick, though. Why else would he need to close his eyes? Surely Patrick wouldn’t be so cruel as to pretend to have a present for him when he didn’t? He absolutely knew he could be, even though what David called cruelty, Patrick called “lovingly irritating.” 

Nevertheless, he shut his eyes and backed up against the row of shelving and the boxes that he’d just been pawing through. He wrung his hands as he heard Patrick coming through the curtain and deposited what sounded like a heavy box on the desk with a grunt.

He could feel the shift in the air as Patrick approached him, and he clapped his hands over his face. He knew if he didn’t physically cover them, he would start to squint until he could kind of see through his eyelids, and he didn’t want to ruin this surprise for either of them.

He felt Patrick’s hands wrap around his wrists and pull them away from his face. He then brought them behind him, draping David around him in a hug. As he brought David’s chin over his shoulder, Patrick whispered in his ear, “okay, you can open them now.” 

Slowly, David opened his eyes and looked over his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

_No. It couldn’t be._

“Patrick! What? How?”

+++

_Four months earlier_

“Sigh.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. 

“Siiiiighhhhhh.”

He shakes his head with a grin as he looks over at David. “You know saying ‘sigh’ isn’t how it works, right?”

David looks up from the table in the middle of the store, where he’s carefully putting labels on jars of caramel sauce from one of their newer vendors. The look on his face shows Patrick exactly what he thinks of his critique.

“I was just thinking of the caramel macchiatos I used to drink.” 

Patrick opens his mouth to offer to get David one from the cafe _like he does almost every day_ when David continues. “I know we can get them from the cafe, but it’s been years and they still can’t get them right and it’s just never going to happen until I can make them myself.”

Patrick is afraid to ask. “What would that entail?”

David’s face lights up. “An espresso machine!” His mind is filled with gleaming silver Italian machinery with more dials and knobs and controls than an airplane cockpit. 

Patrick frowns slightly. “I’m pretty sure I saw them on Amazon for under a hundred bucks.”

David huffs. “May as well keep getting my coffee from the cafe.” He pulls his phone out and, wow, how convenient, there’s a listing for the very espresso machine he was envisioning. “This is what I was thinking.” 

Patrick’s mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot up. He couldn’t even think of words to say to express the absurdity of a coffee maker that would literally never be able to pay for itself, not when Twyla’s macchiatos only cost two dollars. But hey, he was just the numbers guy.

David knew he’d better slip out to the cafe for his mediocre coffee before Patrick’s brain came back online. “I’m just gonna…” he said as he crept out the front door.

Patrick shook his head as the door clicked shut. He knew David thought he was annoyed or irritated, but really he was just deeply amused. He quickly looked up the espresso machine David had shown him, bookmarking the site so he could look at it later.

+++

Patrick knocked quietly on the Schitt’s door, hoping against hope that he’d be able to leave the bottles of body milk with a babysitter or even better, on the front steps. He at least knew enough not to ring the bell since there was a tiny baby inside. After a moment, he heard a shuffling and the door opened slowly. 

Jocelyn stood in the open door looking tired but not as bedraggled as he’d expected, all things considered. She waved Patrick in when she saw the tote bag in his hand. “Come in, let me just grab my wallet.” She walked off to the back of the house, yawning, while Patrick paused awkwardly in the doorway.

He hadn’t been inside the Schitt’s house since Jocelyn’s baby shower a few months earlier. His eyes widened when he noticed that some of the party decor was still on the walls. He tried not to judge, not knowing what it was like to have a new baby in the house. But when his gaze snagged on a set of decorative plaques that most definitely had not been there before, he couldn’t help but judge. Just a little. He walked over to them to look more closely.

Jocelyn walked back in, startling when she saw Patrick. “Oh goodness, I totally forgot you were here! Now I know why I’m holding my wallet!” She smiled slightly maniacally, and plucked some bills out, handing them to Patrick. He stuffed them in his pocket, rocking back on his heels while examining the “Live Laugh Love” that was slightly crookedly printed on the wooden board that was too neatly distressed to be authentic.

“Oh, you like those?” Jocelyn stood next to Patrick. “I made those when I was nesting.”

Patrick looked at her. “You _made_ them?” 

She nodded. “Oh yeah. I have one of those vinyl cutting machines. I used to decorate wine glasses and I even made Roland some aprons for grilling.” She sighed. “Well, no time for that anymore.”

In spite of the cheesy sentiments and the crooked lettering and the fact that David would definitely break up with him if he knew what he was thinking, Patrick couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. It was a feeling he got every time they signed on a new vendor. He expressed his creativity through music, not physical objects, and he was slightly in awe of people who created beautiful things.

Not that these were perfect by any means, but he could see the potential. The side of Patrick’s brain that liked numbers and formulas and precision itched to make the lettering on Jocelyn’s plaque perfectly straight and centered.

He turned to Jocelyn. “Do you think I could borrow your machine?”

+++

A few days after he’d smuggled Jocelyn’s Cricut into his room at Ray’s, he and David were walking hand in hand through the monthly flea market in Elm Glen. They attended every market ostensibly to scope out new vendors, but this time Patrick had a hidden agenda. He couldn’t stop thinking about those godawful signs at Jocelyn’s, and he wanted to see if any vendors were selling them here. And if they were, if the quality was any better than hers.

After a few laps of the market, he determined there wasn’t anyone. When they passed the information booth, he surreptitiously took a photo of the flea market’s phone number and email address. He couldn’t stop envisioning David unwrapping that espresso machine at Christmas and he knew those atrocious signs were the way to get them.

+++

It wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. Well, getting the booth and paying the fee, anyway. He had five weeks to make enough signs to make the profit he needed. Fortunately, Ray had a small workshop in the back of the house where Patrick was able to cut down boards, sand them, and then stain them to prepare them for the vinyl. 

Getting the signs to look better than Jocelyn’s was proving to be a challenge, though. It wasn’t as easy as he thought to transfer the words to the wood, and that was after he cut them on the machine and peeled off all the extraneous bits. 

What _was_ easy was finding slogans. A quick googling for “inspirational quotes” netted him a huge variety of truly cringeworthy material. Some fancy fonts were downloaded (he made sure to channel David before making any choices) and voila! Clichés galore!

Patrick was sitting at his old desk where he’d set up the machine, cutting out “This is our happy place” in a swirly font when he heard the doorbell. Shit. He’d lost track of time and David was supposed to be coming over - he glanced at his watch - _now_. He could see the Cricut cutting out the last of the phrase and calculated that he had another minute before it was completed.

Striding over to the door, he threw it open, stepped outside, and flung his arms around his boyfriend. He tilted his head up and pulled David’s head down until their lips met. Making out was a surefire way to kill some time and distract David. Win win! 

“Well, that was a pleasant welcome!” David looked a little dazed after they pulled apart. Patrick cocked his head towards the open doorway, and once he was sure he couldn’t hear the machine whirring any longer, he tugged David into the house and directly up the stairs before David could see what was on his desk.

“What on earth?” David looked closely at Patrick’s cheek and peeled off the inside of a cursive “e”. Patrick shrugged and pulled David in for another kiss. _Phew_. That was a close call.

+++

Patrick went over the numbers again, the pit in his stomach growing bigger. It wasn’t enough.

The pre-Christmas flea market had taken place that day. He had sold a lot of signs and had managed to keep David away from the flea market by convincing him to visit one of their newer vendors. 

He thought back to the weeks he’d spent making the signs. Every moment he wasn’t with David, he was with the infernal machine. He was constantly finding bits of vinyl all around Ray’s house, on his clothes, stuck to his fingernails, tangled in his hair. 

In his dreams he was resizing fonts and fixing the spacing and peeling and cutting and sanding and shellacking and “be kind” and “#blessed” and so many positive affirmations that he was sure his self-confidence had blossomed, and, well, that was something good that came of it, because dammit, after all that, he was still short of his goal.

Reluctantly he picked up the phone and dialed the flea market office line. “Hey Jennifer. Yeah, I will take the booth again for January after all.”

It was just as well, since they’d had to use some of their espresso machine budget on Christmas decorations for Mr. Rose’s party. Not that Patrick really minded. It really _had_ been a great party.

+++

David leaned back from Patrick and looked him in the eye, incredulous. Patrick just smiled and disentangled himself from his boyfriend. In a daze, David walked over to the giant box on the desk. He ran his hand over it reverently, humming. 

“Let’s get it set up,” Patrick said gently. He couldn’t tear his eyes off David, who was still in a state of shock that the exact espresso machine he’d shown Patrick months before was now sitting in a box in front of him. It didn’t even say “refurbished”!

David cleared the spot on top of a set of low bookshelves where he’d always envisioned this gleaming machinery sitting. Patrick lifted the coffee maker out of the box, gently placing it in its spot, then stepping back to stand next to David.

David stared at it, his smile turning into a frown as he furrowed his brows. What the fuck?

Patrick wrapped his arm around David’s waist and chuckled.

In dramatically swirling lettering, the front of the espresso machine proclaimed, “You are loved a latte!”

**Author's Note:**

> I really should get to using this [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sweatersinthesummer) more.


End file.
